The Proving Grounds

There is one thing that all kids can agree on: the playground is the best place on Earth, a place where your imagination is free to roam. I spent the majority of my childhood either begging to go to the park or playing there. But there was one that I loved more than all the others combined. It was about thirty minutes from where I lived, so going there was a treat. Somehow, I still managed to make it there about once a week. It was Isenberg Park. 

“Don’t forget your water bottles!” Mom screamed as we frantically shuffled out the door and into her old blue minivan. Her signature Toyota Sienna had seen almost all the stages of our lives. Orchestrating four kids was never an easy task, but the car ride was always an adventure. I never knew which one of my siblings would sneak up on me and pull my hair or kick the back of my seat. But we had fun too. I can’t even keep a record of how many games of I-Spy we played. Despite how discreet we were in our monkey business, it always seemed like mom had eyes in the back of her head. I’m sure she felt like she was driving around wild animals.

All games began to stop as soon as we smelled that familiar breeze of the KFC fryer drifting into the van. As we got closer, our eyes were fixed on the park to scope out who was playing that day. Mom could barely put the car in park as we busted out of the van. Sometimes we would remember our shoes, but most of the time we were barefoot. The wood chips of the playground barrier felt comforting beneath my feet, and the sound of baseballs from the batting cage was music to my ears. I was home.

It seemed like everyone had their zone. My brother and his friends were at the swings, my sister loved the monkey bars, and my baby sister always played closely to mom on her blanket. Throughout my childhood, I moved through all the different zones. I was one of the big kids now, and it was time to earn my spot. 

There was always a line at the slide. Standing at a whopping twelve feet tall, it looked like a mountain compared to my friends and me. There was no barrier at the top to keep you from falling off. You had to be very calculated, and I was next in line. Attached was an old rickety ladder, and with every step, the butterflies in my stomach got crazier. You couldn’t stand at the top for too long because the sun made the sheet metal burn your skin. There was no turning back. I sat at the top looking at the ramp beneath me, but not budging. Those welcoming wood chips now looked like an ominous dark hole. My heart felt like I had just eaten fifteen candy bars and drank a liter of Coca-Cola. Then the peer pressure kicked in. “Go! You’re holding up the line, scaredy cat!” Some of the older boys began to shout.

After the line began to sing a synchronized taunt of “scaredy cat, scaredy cat, scaredy…” I knew my time was coming to an end. I would ruin my reputation forever if I didn’t do it. That was it. I closed my eyes and jolted my body weight forward. I think I had the loudest scream of the day. My siblings didn’t let me live that down for quite some time because they even heard it from the opposite side of the playground. As I landed my eyes were still closed and I was afraid to open them. I rose tall and then scurried away to the picnic table where my mom and her friends were. Tears began to fall as she picked the wood chips out of my bloody knees. Despite the pain, I didn’t care about the new battle wounds because I did it. This was my initiation at the proving grounds. 

Although I may have had a rough introduction to my role as a big kid at the park, the next time I played there I could tell my respect had been earned. The more I went down the slide, the more my confidence grew. I was unstoppable. Instead of forcing myself to even climb the ladder, I was now seeing how fast I could fly off the slide. It wasn’t much longer until I outgrew the final stages of the playground. 

Many slide rides and knee scars later, I drove past Isenberg park. This time without my mom. I pulled over because something had changed, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. The slide was gone. In its place was a red plastic slide that was probably the same height as me. Beneath it was a cushiony rubber mat that surrounded the play structure. The entire playground that I knew was gone. It was now just a plastic contraption that looked baby proof. What happened to the line at the slide and the stripes that you earned?

I left the park astonished about the changes that I just witnessed. I knew the change was good for the most part, but the way it would shape the current players would be a lot different. The blood, sweat, and tears that I left there were now covered by sensory walls and high-back baby swings. At least I still have the scars on my knees. Proof that I earned those stripes. 

I haven’t been back to the park since then, but I realized it helped shape the person I am today. My brother and sister grew up there with me, and I see it in their eyes too. They are strong, always bounce back and look fear dead in the eyes. My other sister was just a baby when I was growing out of my park days. I am glad the park grew up too. I know it will be just as fun for her, and she’ll never have to prove herself on that twelve-foot slide of doom.